As Blood Runs Black
by XLadySnowX
Summary: Not every love story ends with a happily ever after. Besides, what chance would two special infected have of a happy ending? Hunter/Witch, one-shot, M for lime, violence, angst & character death.


**Title: **As Blood Runs Black

**Pairing(s): **Hunter/Witch

**Summary: **Not every love story ends with a happily ever after. Besides, what chance would two special infected have of a happy ending? Hunter/Witch, one-shot, M for lime, violence, angst & character death.

**Rating/Warnings: **A solid M – a light sexual situation, graphic violence, angst and character death.

**Timeline: **Left 4 Dead, before, during or after, doesn't really matter.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Left 4 Dead; everything belongs to Mike Booth (director) and Chet Faliszek (Writer). No profit is being made from this story, it's merely for entertainment purposes. Oh and the title also belongs to the band, "As Blood Runs Black".

**Author's Note: **Just an experiment, I liked this pairing, the special infected intrigued me while playing Left 4 Dead, and this was made from my love for the Hunter and the Witch, my weird need to tell an angsty love story. I'm also warming up to Left 4 Dead fiction in order to write my next one, a Left 4 Dead/Resident Evil crossover : ) sit back, relax and enjoy the show, don't forget to let me know what you think! xox

**X-X-X-X-X-X-X**

Sometimes, she liked to close her eyes and pretend. Pretend that the world wasn't like it was; a barren wasteland of death and decay. Sometimes she didn't even have to close her eyes; the darkness that was provided to her made it unnecessary. She'd hole herself up in a room, wrap her arms around her legs in the fetal position, and cry loudly, in a vain attempt to drown out the grotesque growling and snarling she heard coming from other infected.

She was a monster. A creature of the darkness. So in a way, she was right where she belonged. Lost in the dark, in her pain and misery, with nothing but her wails and the animalistic noises from the infected to keep her company.

Such a dreary existence.

Sometimes, she would hear the voices of humans outside the room she was in. Sometimes they were in large groups, other times it was only one or two of them. But the second they heard her bloodcurdling howling, they'd go quiet and their flashlights would go out. They knew better than to startle a witch. If they didn't bother her, she wouldn't bother them. She'd thought numerous times of attacking them, just so they'd shoot her dead and she'd no longer have to live in this world. But a little voice inside her head always advised her against this, the little survival instinct embedded into her brain refused to disappear.

_Attack only if provoked._

One day, everything changed. The Witch could hear the sounds of a Hunter outside the door. Not uncommon, of course. She'd heard more then her fair share of Hunters, Smokers, Bombers and Tanks. But they all knew better than to enter the Witch's domain. Not this one, it seemed. He seemed to lurk outside the door, standing there for a long time, before he entered.

When the sudden florescent light peeked through her dusty darkness, she emitted a low screech of warning. The Hunter seemed to freeze for a second, deciding whether to proceed with what he had planned or flee. But he slowly continued forward, shutting the door behind him. Now the only light that was in the room came from the moon, high in the starry sky. The Hunter's eyes widened at how the moonlight illuminated the Witch; made her look as if she were glowing.

She was beautiful.

He carefully got down on all fours, three meters away from her, to show he wasn't there to fight with her. The Witch's angry snarls died down, as she was more confused then furious now. She watched him with a frown as his bloody mouth moved up and down, like a fish out of water, trying to say something. Finally, after a few feeble attempts, he made a frustrated, throaty sound, and it was as if his voice broke.

"Jay… mmms," The Hunter barked hoarsely, its throat raw and unused to trying to communicate in such a… _human _way. Exchanging names. How very human indeed.

_Its name is James._

The Witch frowned. How on earth could he remember what his name was before he was turned? And more importantly, why would he waste time telling her his name? What did it matter anymore? He was a Hunter. How would it benefit either of them in any way? Despite this, her teeth clenched in thought as she tried to remember her own name. The Hunter – James – waited, sitting across from her, eerily patient. Finally, images flicked through her mind, too quickly for her to make sense of completely. A book on a table, with an untidy scrawl in the middle of the page. She frowned deeper, concentrating with all her might to read what it said.

_An A… two Ns… another A… _

"Anna." She whispered finally, her voice a high and child-like, feeling strangely vulnerable under the Hunter's gaze.

_James and Anna._

How surreal this felt to the Witch. When she'd been bitten, she'd forfeited all aspects of her humanity to hide in the darkness. It was the first time she'd spoken, apart from her crying and screaming; her voice had startled her, and remembering her name – Anna – had caused quite a stir of emotions inside her chest.

The Hunter smiled, looking rather ghoulish with all the gore stained on its mouth. It reached out towards her with a steady hand; she flinched back, still wary of this Hunter's motivations for doing what he was doing. Exchanging names was one thing – trying to execute an entire conversation would be impossible for them. Instead, they were forced to communicate like animals - through actions and guttural noises. He made a low sound in the back of his throat, almost like a husky humming. The Witch was frozen, waiting for the second his façade would disappear and she would be attacked, forced to defend herself. Her body was tense, her claws slightly raised, she was ready…

But no offense came from the Hunter's hand. Instead, he brushed the platinum hair that had fallen in front of her face, still humming in a way that – _almost _– comforted the Witch. His palm was rough and calloused, but the Witch liked it. It was the first time she'd been touched for as long as she could remember.

"Ah-nah." He struggled saying her name, but he managed, and it brought odd sensations to the Witch. A light fluttering inside her stomach. She looked into the Hunter's black eyes, and realized that maybe she didn't have to be alone anymore.

The Hunter came and left as he pleased after that. The Witch never knew where he went – it wasn't as if she could ask, or go with him. But whenever he was there, inside the dark room in Mercy Hospital with her, he would hold her, and together they would stay there in their own little piece of forever. The closest the Witch would come to bliss. She'd forgotten how much she missed just being in the presence of someone – _something _– that didn't want to kill her. He'd say her name a lot, becoming more and more accustomed to it, and every time it escaped his lips the butterflies would go off in her stomach once more. It was a strangely pure emotion that felt horribly out of place in this world. When he left, he'd lick the Witch's cheek affectionately, before scampering off, and she would start crying again. And she'd keep mourning until he came back to her once more. He always did come back.

A few times the Hunter even managed to coax the Witch out of the room, though it took a lot of effort on both their sides. The Hunter cut the lights in Mercy Hospital and they roamed the corridors together, the Witch clinging to the Hunter's back as he scurried along the walls and the roof to remain of reach of the infected. As the Witch grew more and more comfortable with being outside her four walls, the Hunter took her on the roof. It was the first time she'd seen the moon and the stars up close for herself, and she was in awe. The Hunter smirked, glad to have pleased her. However, their escapades to the rooftop abruptly came to an end when an infected managed to get too close to the Witch and tried feebly to attack her. She screamed and ran away, and the Hunter tore it to shreds and threw it's entrails off the roof top. After that, she refused to go outside again, and the Hunter was content to stay in the room with her. Just so long as they were together, it didn't matter where they were.

Their last night together started off like any other. They'd lay wrapped in each other's embrace; the Witch would coo, and the Hunter would croak her name in response. She found herself staring up into his eyes – bottomless, absent black, much like her own. Something compelled her to lean upward, towards his face, and press her lips against his. The Witch couldn't remember what this was, what it meant or, quite frankly, how to do it, but it felt like the right thing to do. The Hunter had as much idea as she did, this kind of human affection lost to them, much like the ability to speak properly, but it certainly felt like the right thing to do.

It felt awkward at first, their lips meshing together messily, licks being thrown in every now and again. She ran her tongue along his sharp teeth, and he groaned, responding by biting her tongue too hard. She made a loud noise of protest, pulling back from him, but he took a hold of her again, making apologetic noises as he licked the blood from her tongue, attempting to heal it quicker. The Witch threw herself back into the embrace, responding with vigor.

It came to an end when both their senses detected four humans outside the room. The Hunter pulled away from the Witch, growling warningly, crouching protectively in front of her. One of the humans outside hushed the other three, having heard the Hunter's snarl. He slowly crept his way towards the door, and the Witch made a noise of protest, trying to go after him. He shook his head, licking the tears from her cheeks.

His eyes promised he'd take care of the human beings threatening her existence, and then he'd come back. Trusting him, she hid in the dark corner of the room as he slid out the door. Within seconds, there were noises of confrontation. Every gunshot that went off, every noise of pain the Hunter made, made the Witch sob, placing her claws over her ears, trying to block out the sounds. With every fiber in her body, she willed the Hunter to finish the humans quickly and return to her. She was starting to feel the same emptiness she always did whenever he left her. Cold, empty and frightened. Scared he wouldn't return to her.

"Jaymmms." The Witch finally said his name, her body shaking with terror. Her voice was a low groan now, no longer the high sweet sound it was before. It seemed as if the battle would never end, and every moment it dragged on was another moment the Witch was in the worst agony she'd ever faced. Finally, it was over, but the final noises that echoed throughout the halls of the hospital were not the ones the Witch had been opening to hear. She heard the Hunter groan pitifully, and a shotgun blast loudly, making her recoil roughly into the wall, breaking it.

James had been killed.

Any shred of humanity that was left inside the Witch was gone the second that shotgun went off. Anna was gone, and she would never exist inside this Witch again. Slowly, she wobbled to her feet, feeling the indescribable rage pulsate through her veins, giving her power she'd never felt before. With a spine-chilling scream of fury, she charged straight through the door that separated her from her victims. She split the wood and knocked the door straight off its hinges.

The foursome, consisting of three males and a female, spun around, caught off guard by the suddenness of appearance. A horde of the infected blocked the bloodthirsty Witch from the humans, but they were easily dealt with. She ran forward, and in a frenzy, swiped her claws, taking the heads off of every single one of them. Blood from her attack splattered over her face, but she didn't even register it. The only thing she registered was the distance between her and the humans, and how long it would take her to kill each of them before they managed to pump a bullet into her.

"It's a Witch!" The female yelled, reloading the two pistols she held in her slim hands. The three men were a lot clumsier, trying to reload their shotguns, but they weren't quick enough. The Witch collided into the girl with a screech, and quick as lightning, her hand swiped straight through her, claws ripping into her flesh. Her claws wrapped around the girl's beating heart, and yanked it from her body. The girl had just enough time to look shocked, spit a little blood out, before dropping to the floor, gore splattered and still.

"ZOEY!" one of the men roared, before the Witch turned on them. She tossed Zoey's heart aside, like it meant nothing, and to her, it didn't, before charging at them, claws ready to tear out more hearts, just like they tore hers. The darker male managed to reload his shotgun in time, and with a deafening noise, the Witch felt the large pellet lodge itself inside her abdomen. She squealed and fell backwards from the impact, her dark, almost black blood oozing out of her like water from a broken dam. Desperately, she tried to get back to her feet, but was shot by the man with the white hair in the shoulder.

The world tipped sideways then, and suddenly the Witch was on her side, gasping as her blood spilled all over the grimy white floor. She was dizzy, and every inch of her body hurt. She was dying, she finally realized. After all this time, wishing for death, it was finally coming to claim her. The finality of it all overwhelmed her. Weakly, she managed to pull herself up slightly, and a few feet ahead of her, she saw the corpse of the Hunter she'd loved and lost, lying motionless with his hand outstretched in front of him. The Witch cried softly, dragging itself closer to him, her own hand outstretched. She feared she wouldn't make it, and she would be killed before she did. But she got there just in time, and her claws wrapped tightly around

Tears came to her eyes and she wailed quietly, in both physical and emotional pain. It would all be okay now. She welcomed death with open warms. It didn't matter where the Hunter and the Witch were, just as long as they were together. Perhaps there was an afterlife for their kind, and she would see James there. The Witch doubted this, but she couldn't stop herself from hoping. She gripped tightly onto the Hunter's hand as she heard one of the humans cock another gun, and a final bullet was shot into the back of her head.

And the Witch was no more.

**X-X-X-X-X-X-X**

**/3 the poor Witch and Hunter, I hated to end things the way I did, but it felt more… appropriate, for them to have a tragic love story. Thanks for reading, everybody! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it : ) Don't forget to review and tell me what you think!**__

**P.S This story, in no way, reflects my opinion on Zoey. In fact, I love Zoey, whenever I play Left 4 Dead, I play as her. And she's going to be the protagonist in my Resident Evil/Left 4 Dead story. Her death just felt necessary for the story, tit for tat, you know? **


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